Legacy of Hate
by liareh
Summary: Post DH : After Snape's trial, Harry wonders about forgiveness. Discaimer : Not my character, not my setting, not for financial gain. All that's JKR's. Only to get back into writing


The sun was about to set on the horizon when Harry, desperate for a smoke and a little solitude, stepped out onto the rooftop verandah of the MoM. It had been a long day. Strike that - a long couple of months, but he had done his part. He had stood up for the man and got his name cleared, had got him acquitted and even nominated for an Order of Merlin. He had accomplished all that he had set out to when he had filed the petition, determined to restore the man's good name, to bring the truth about his courage and sacrifice to the fore, ready to fight one and all.

Well, he had won. Earlier in the evening, the Wizengamot had unanimously acquitted the man and declared him to be a hero -a rather anticlimactic denouement of a case that had incited extreme passions in all those involved. Dark secrets and intrigues, tales long forgotten of people long buried, terrible tragedies averted and heart-wrenching ones created, nefarious plans and plots had all come tumbling out of the darkest corners of the minds of people who made the who-is-who list of the British Wizarding World. Alone, all the little tidbits provided were evidence condemning him and yet, when woven together, they formed the most complex tapestry - a plot hatched by two crafty men working in a centuries-old children's school in a remote part of Scotland to save the British Wizarding World from the clutches of darkness. And of course, it had been a most comprehensive lesson on his personal family history( little as he knew about it).

He was tired- bone-deep tired of the questions, the evidence, the fighting, even the truth. He knew that the hearing was just the first phase. The public trial, as conducted by the media, in the media and for the media would begin only the next day, when the details of the hearing would be released. By the day after, the entire Wizarding Britain would be drawn into a public debate and it would not limit itself to the man whose trial it had been. No. It would include each and every one of the heroes and villains of modern Britain. Everyone - dead or alive - would be scrutinised, their actions analysed and motivations - real or attributed, dissected. Questions would be raised, accusations and recriminations made, conclusions drawn and finally, judgement on all of them would be pronounced. All this in accordance with their own preconceived notions and of course, guided by the opinions of reporters such as Rita Skeeter.

He snorted. If nothing else, it would most definitely serve to single handedly launch a hundred careers in writing and reporting.

It would be the topic for discussion on radio and schools, the fodder for conversation during dinner and gatherings. It would be in the speeches and campaigns of political leaders to come, in the musings of philosophers and poets as they debated on morality, ethics and sacrifices. They would edify him and damn him in the same breath - he himself found it difficult to forgive the man despite all that he knew. How did one go about forgiving someone,of whom you had nothing but bad, sour memories. The man might have protected him, helped him, guided him from behind the doors but he had also sneered at him, ridiculed him, hated him. How could one forget those black tunnels that followed him everywhere, that acidic tongue that had prodded and taunted Sirius. How did one stop resenting someone who had hated the one man who had promised to give you, a neglected orphan, a proper family, and hated with a vengeance that would have made his feelings for Harry seem almost tender. Did knowing that he had hated Sirius because of a valid reason assuage any of the pain that he felt over losing his godfather? How did one ignore the feeling that forgiving him would be disrespect to that man, who was the closest thing you had to a father? How do you forgive a man whom you have hated since you were twelve, whom you believed for years to have been at least partially responsible for your godfather's death, who forced your mentor into resigning, who killed Albus Dumbledore - who denigrated you and your father at every opportunity he got and evermore, created new opportunities to do so?

He had such a long history of hatred, a lineage, even, that it was impossible to forget and forgive it all despite all the evidence. He wanted to rant and rail, proclaim that some witness had confounded them all, that the evidence had been all lies. But who was there who would forge evidence for Snape, other than his mother of course, he smiled grimly. Worst of it all had been the memories that had been shown by Narcissa Malfoy about his mother and the love that had shone in her eyes for him - how could he forgive him for betraying that love - no, even more pressing was - how could he forgive him for the love that he could evoke in her eyes - it was meant to be his father's, not his. It would be a betrayal of his father.

If only he could remember one look from Snape that had not scorched him or dissected him , that had not been a sneer, scornful dismissal or anger,unfettered. But he did not. How did one forgive such a git? He might have been a hero, but he had also been a right bastard. Looking purely, objectively from the point of view of justice, he might not have deserved the lot that fell him, but Harry certainly couldn't wish for him to have got any other. How did one remain objective when faced with something so personal? He would still remember Sirius and James and Remus and Dumbledore and would wish to blast his greasy head. How could he not?

He had won and yet, standing there, that day, with the sun setting on the horizon and a cigarette stump burning in his fingers, instead of feeling victorious, free of all debts and obligations, he just felt conflicted. He had never understood inner conflict before this day- not truly - the conflict when you hate someone and yet save him out of loyalty or a sense of justice despite eminent great personal loss. Harry had never understood how the man could have hated James, how anyone could hate the person who had saved his life. But as he stood there, gathering his courage to face the questions and scandals that would erupt when the Wizengamot's final decision on the months' long and strictly closed-door trial would be made public along with all the details that had come out during the trial, he knew exactly how to hate the man who had saved his life umpteen times, the man for the honour of whose name he had fought against the entire Wizengamot and would continue to fight the entire world.

He had come a full circle. Was that not what he had seen between Sirius and Snape, James and Snape, Remus and Snape, Snape and himself? Yes, perhaps, it was his inheritance from everyone who had given up his or her life for his, including _Snape_. Sometimes, knowledge of one's innocence or redemption or true character did not actually automatically lead to forgiveness. Giving up one's life for someone was a lot easier than forgiving that person. And try as he might, he had not, as yet, reached the point where he could let go of that legacy.


End file.
